SpaceBook Awakens (Amy Armstrong 3)

by Stephen Colegrove

  “Because it’s really hot in here,” said Amy’s twin, a smirk on her face. “Right, Philip?”

  The teenager turned red. “Quite.”

  “Strange,” said Amy. “I thought the temperature was self-adjusting. I wonder if it has something to do with the transmat drive. MacGuffin is still holed up in there banging on it and won’t give me any clear answers.”

  Philip nodded. “Very likely.”

  Amy crossed the room and touched Philip’s lower lip with an index finger.

  “Did the ‘really hot’ temperature kiss you on the mouth?” she asked, rubbing red lipstick between her finger and thumb. “That’s not very likely, is it?”

  “Ah,” said the dark-haired boy. “No, it’s not, but I’m entirely innocent. She attacked me!”

  Three spread her arms wide. “What a monster! I would never betray the sisterhood like that. He pushed me against the wall!”

  Philip stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ll ask Blanche,” said Amy. “She watches everything. Hey, Blanche!”

  “My Lady, we are being hailed.”

  Amy shrugged. “It’s that repeating broadcast. I said to ignore it.”

  “This is on a different frequency, my Lady. From the beam variance, it appears to originate from a craft bearing twenty-seven degrees and traveling one-hundred twenty two meters per second.”

  “She’s still fishing,” said Three. “If you say anything over the airwaves, she’ll know our location.”

  “That information is no longer secret,” said the ship. “Our coordinates are included in the broadcast.”

  “Show me,” said Amy.

  A holographic screen appeared in mid-air and displayed the scar-faced, older version of Amy.

  “This is Captain Armstrong of the Hare Twist, approaching your position of thirty-six point seven two six six seven by negative one twenty-two point zero five five. Respond immediately.”

  “Are those our coordinates?” asked Amy.

  “Indeed, my Lady.”

  “Give me a microphone or something. I want to talk to her.”

  Three stared at Amy. “What?”

  “She knows where we are. How can it hurt?”

  “I don’t know if this is wise,” said Philip. “I thought we wanted to avoid contact. We should leave the area post-haste.”

  Three nodded. “What he said!”

  “We ARE going to leave,” said Amy. “Just let me talk to my dimensional twin for a second. It’s not every day you meet one of ‘em.”

  Three blinked. “Um … hello?”

  “Two of ‘em. Blanche, is the connection ready?”

  “Yes, my Lady.”

  Amy brushed blonde hair back from her face and straightened the front of her pink blouse.

  “This is Amy Armstrong of the White Star. Can you hear me?”

  The image of the scar-faced woman flickered. She leaned forward, her eyes wide and red lips parted.

  “I can, child, I can,” she whispered. “So young and so lovely … was I ever like you? Full of energy and promise, daylight and dreams? Old age has worn away the memories, like pebbles in the river of time.”

  Three crossed her arms and grumbled quietly to herself. “Lovely? What a load of crap.”

  Amy chopped a hand down. “Skip the philosophy, and tell me what you want.”

  The scar-faced woman smiled. “Direct and to the point, just like the rest of us. Miss Armstrong, I would like nothing more than to invite you and the sister copy standing behind you to have dinner on my ship, the Hare Twist.”

  Three stamped her foot. “It’s a trap!”

  “I assure you, dear sister, it is nothing of the kind.”

  Amy shook her head. “What about these stories about kidnapping Three? From the list of charges and ‘love crimes’ you’ve been broadcasting I expect that at the end of dinner, you’ll want to slap a pair of handcuffs on her.”

  The scar-faced woman smiled grimly. “We are not so medieval as that, but you are very perceptive for your age. What are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Remarkable. In any case, the young woman you know as Three has a large Centauran bounty on her head and must be returned to the planetary authorities.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass. Three reminds me of a wild animal and might be trying to steal my boyfriend, but I sort of like her. She reminds me of me.”

  The scar-faced woman leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. “A funny girl, I see. How about a swap? I trade you a cat that one of your crew claims is his wife, and you give me the Centauran criminal.”

  Amy glanced at Philip and Three. “His wife? That’s why Sunflower was so upset. He tried to contact her, didn’t he?”

  The scar-faced woman shrugged. “Names are irrelevant at this point. Before you reject my offer with another pithy, off-hand comment, be aware that I am known as ‘One’ among the rest of the sisters. I am alpha and omega; the first and the last. I have out-smarted, out-charmed, and out-fought more queens, generals, and mercenaries across more dimensions than you can imagine. I have plans upon plans ready and waiting for any action you take. Make it easy on yourself and accept my invitation to dinner.”

  “Four craft rapidly approaching from bearing twenty-eight, my Lady,” said the ship.

  Amy made a slicing gesture across her throat. “Cut the transmission, Blanche! Get us to orbit.”

  The holographic screen disappeared. Silverware and plates rattled in the sink as the entire kitchen began to vibrate.

  Three gave Amy a tight hug. “Thanks for trusting me, sister.”

  “Promise me you won’t smear any more lipstick on Philip, and we’re even.”

  “But he’s so cute!”

  Philip cleared his throat and walked rapidly toward the hatch.

  “I believe my attention is required by matters on the opposite side of the ship,” he said.

  THE DISPLAY ZOOMED into a long, barracuda-shaped craft framed against the black surface of the midnight ocean. As it rose into the sky, waves burst over it and white streams of moonlit water cascaded from the hull of the silver ship.

  A black cat wearing a headset over his furry ears pointed at the display.

  “There she is, Captain! Have you ever seen a ship like that? With those engines, I bet she goes like lightning.”

  The scar-faced copy of Amy frowned. “Thank you, Wilson, but I don’t pay you for your opinion.”

  The black cat shrugged. “You don’t pay me at all, actually.”

  “What an impertinent thing to say. Remind me again why I haven’t locked you in a punishment cube?”

  Wilson held up a paw. “Because one––you just threw Andy Nakamura in a punishment cube, and two––I’m the only other cat on this ship who knows anything about anything. Nobody else wants to be your first officer!”

  One sighed and rubbed her eyes. On the display screen, the silver craft picked up speed, its narrow hull skimming above the waves.

  “Activate the rescue teams and salvage drones,” said One. “Hold on tight, Amy Armstrong. This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me.”

  “Ugh,” said Wilson. “So cliché.”

  “Shut up.”

  One pressed a button on the arm of her command chair. A thin bar swiped back and forth across the display.

  “That’s the camera cleaner, my Lady,” said the black cat. “I’m guessing you actually want to activate the secret thingy? That’s the button to the left. The one covered by a plastic shield? No, the other button. You almost pressed the drive flush––I can’t tell you how BAD that would have been.”

  “This one?”

  “Yes! Finally.”

  One flipped up a small plastic cover and stabbed a red button. The silver ship on the screen disappeared in a blinding flash.

  SUNFLOWER STOPPED in the midst of cleaning his furry face with a paw.

  “Seriously, Betsy. Start acting like a dog that cost t
he Lady millions of mao in cybernetic implants, instead of a fizz-brained kribich who just fell off the plate.”

  The brown and white terrier whined. “But I’m bored, Sunnie.”

  “We can’t leave until sergeant poona breath is done playing with his cargo container. Saint Mittens knows how long that will take. It doesn’t matter because I don’t want anyone to know I was down here.”

  “I know you’re down here!”

  “You’ll forget about it the minute I mention ‘space burgers.’”

  “Ooo! Space burgers. Do you think I’ll win some?”

  “Definitely,” said Sunflower, and went back to cleaning his fur.

  “But Sunnie––how long is a lifetime supply?”

  “A couple of days, in your case.”

  “That’s awesome!”

  The terrier yawned and began sniffing around the tiny cockpit. He reached down to the floor and pulled out a green pilot’s helmet.

  “Look what I found!” Betsy stuck his furry head into the helmet and fastened a strap under his chin. “See, it fits.”

  “Fantastic.”

  Betsy turned forward and faced the control panel. “These are almost the same as my bomber controls. I bet I could fly this thing, too.”

  “It doesn’t fly,” said Sunflower. “Cat armor runs and cat armor jumps. No flying.”

  “Sounds the same. Computer, power up electrics.”

  The small control panel flickered to life and a curving slice of holographic displays materialized in front of the terrier, displaying engine data and status of systems on the armored cat.

  “Stop,” hissed Sunflower. “I turned it off for a reason.”

  “Welcome, pilot,” said the voice of the flight computer. “Welcome, navigator.”

  “Hi!” barked Betsy.

  “Thank you for wearing a protective helmet, pilot. Navigator is not in compliance with Imperial regulations for wearing a protective helmet. Would you like a protective helmet to be provided to the navigator?”

  “Yes!” barked Betsy.

  A metal arm jerked down and squashed a red flight helmet over Sunflower’s furry head. This would have been fine, if it weren’t for the fact that the helmet was facing backwards.

  “Idiot machine!” came the muffled voice of Sunflower, as he pulled and scratched at the sides. “Get it off!”

  “Navigator is attempting to communicate, but I cannot understand,” said the flight computer, a hint of amusement in its electronic voice.

  Betsy searched the front seat. “Where are the belts? Safety first, you know.”

  “Deploying harness restraints,” said the computer.

  Strips of bright red fabric emerged from the top and bottom of the seat and clicked into a metal buckle at Betsy’s furry chest. In the back seat, the webbing pulled Sunflower’s paws from his helmet and wrapped him in a tight cocoon.

  “I can’t move!” he yelled. “I can’t see and I can’t move! Take this thing off, you stupid motherless garbage can!”

  Betsy flipped the sun visor up and down on the front of his helmet. “Sunnie, that’s not a very nice thing to say. Do you think it’s a nice thing to say, computer?”

  “I have no opinion on the matter,” said the electronic voice. “But I agree with the pilot.”

  “Gah!” yelled Sunflower. “I’ll take both of you apart, piece by piece!”

  Betsy giggled. “Say please and I’ll let you out.”

  “Please!”

  “I can’t hear you …”

  A deafening boom threw the cat and dog hard against their restraints, their pilot helmets bouncing in all directions as the world spun in circles of gray and black. After a second impact, the cockpit window was covered in dark blue water and trails of tiny bubbles.

  “Explosive impact on port flank,” said the flight computer. “Negative damage. Negative sealant leak. Low oxygen environment present. Recommend battery power.”

  “That was fun,” said Betsy. “Can we do it again?”

  “What in the name of Saint Fluffy and his seven lives just happened?” hissed Sunflower’s muffled voice. “Did a stupid little dog in the pilot’s seat accidentally shoot off micro-missiles and blow up the entire ship?”

  “If I see a stupid little dog, I’ll ask him,” said Betsy. “I don’t know what happened, but I think we’re upside down.”

  A thruster fired, turning the armored cat upright, and the steel claws sank into the muddy ocean floor.

  “Inertial movement halted,” said the flight computer.

  “Now I have to look for that other dog,” said Betsy. “Do you think he’s outside?”

  Sunflower sighed. “Please get this helmet off my face.”

  Betsy leaned toward the glass and stared as hundreds of yellow fish with black vertical stripes swam past the cockpit.

  “Hey, Sunnie … does this thing swim?”

  THE BLAST threw Amy against the ceiling. She fell back to the kitchen floor with a painful smack, her arms around her head. Three had tumbled against the nearby wall and lay crumpled with hands pressed to her side. She winced under a mess of blonde hair over her face.

  Locker doors had burst open, spilling pans and boxes of dried food over the diamond-patterned metal deck. A series of high-pitched beeps pealed from somewhere, and the light from the overhead panels had changed from pale white to deep crimson. The floor shivered and the entire ship pitched unevenly in all directions.

  “Blanche! What’s going on?!!”

  “Detonation in cargo hold. Starboard impeller compromised. Third bulkhead compromised. All crew abandon ship. Repeat, all crew abandon ship.”

  A line of tiny red lights flashed on the deck, forming arrows that pointed to the corridor.

  “I don’t believe it,” groaned Three. “She’s trying to kill me!”

  Amy helped the girl to her feet. “Why are you surprised? You said she was Lady Hitler.”

  “Yeah, but she’s not supposed to kill me!”

  “Welcome to the club, because I don’t want to die either. Blanche, where’s Philip?”

  “All crew abandon ship. Repeat––”

  Three groaned. “Even your ship has abandoned ship. Where’s the shuttle craft?”

  “We don’t have one.”

  “How about escape pod? Let’s go!”

  “Um …”

  Three stood and hobbled across the vibrating deck. “This is your ship, and you don’t know where the escape pods are?”

  Amy grabbed Three under the arm and helped her walk to the exit. “I didn’t expect to use them!”

  “Talk about a death trap,” murmured Three. “This place is worse than the bucket of bolts One flies around in. Wait! Let me grab my makeup kit.” She stuffed the small black case in a cargo pocket.

  Outside the kitchen the gray walls of the corridor gleamed red in the emergency light.

  “Projection system is off,” said Amy.

  “That’s not our biggest problem, sister! Where’s that water coming from?”

  Water sloshed and foamed at the far end of the corridor. As they watched, Philip sprinted around a corner and splashed through the flood toward them.

  “Philip!” shouted Amy and Three together, and both waved at him.

  The dark-haired teen slid to a stop in front of the girls. He was bare-footed and his red uniform was completely soaked.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Doesn’t matter—follow me!”

  The deck pitched left and right and an inch of pale blue water swirled around the feet of the teenagers. Three had a sudden recovery of health, and both girls chased after Philip.

  “What happened?” Amy yelled after him. “Was it a missile?”

  “Don’t think so,” shouted Philip over his shoulder. “It was the cargo we took on board at Tau Ceti or that escape pod. That’s my guess!”

  “Don’t blame me!” yelled Three, as she splashed through the water beside Amy. “I’m not stupid enough to blow up your dumb spaceship when I’m inside
!”

  The line of blinking red lights led them to the port-side airlock. Philip slapped the center of the circular hatch and helped the two girls inside. Water swirled around his calves as the hatch shut behind him, silencing the bubbling roar of water and squeals of tearing metal from the corridor.

  “What about the others?” asked Amy. She felt her entire body start to shiver from cold or fright or something, and crossed her arms to try and hold it in.

  Philip hugged her tight. “I thought Nick was in our bedroom, but I couldn’t find her. I don’t know about everyone else. I hope they find an airlock.”

  “The ship can float, right?”

  The deck tilted wildly, and the teenagers grabbed for handholds along the curved walls.

  “There’s your answer,” said Three. “What now, Philip? Hold hands and kiss until the air runs out? I call first!”

  Philip shook his head. “We have to escape and swim to safety. How that happens, I have no idea.”

  Amy began opening the narrow cabinets around the circular chamber. “This is an airlock, right? It’s got to have spacesuits or oxygen or something!”

  Philip opened a locker and held out a small red cylinder with an attached mask. “Found something.”

  “Only one?” asked Three.

  “Don’t worry, I found your suit,” said Amy. She tossed the red pressure suit and clear bubble helmet to Three.

  Metal groaned and the floor pitched at a sharp angle. Philip handed the red cylinder with the mask to Amy.

  “There’s no time!” he said, and turned a bright orange handle near the wall. Water began to fill the airlock. “The ship is sinking fast! You have to leave now, or you’ll never make it to the surface. Two people can share the oxygen.”

  Amy grabbed his arm. “I’m not leaving without you!”

  “Philip, don’t do it!” yelled Three.

  Water swirled around their waists, tinted red from the emergency lights. Philip pushed the pair toward the outside hatch.

  “I’ll get out another way!” he yelled, and pulled the lever to open the hatch. “I love you, Amy! Don’t give up!”

  “No!” shouted Amy. A blast of freezing water hit her in the face, and something pushed her into the deep blue emptiness outside the ship.